


Gym

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 04:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Crushes are pain.





	Gym

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“I just never thought you cared much for exercise,” Aragorn notes, which Gimli hardly hears, because his pulse is pounding in his ears and he’s panting like he’s going to die. He really actually might die. It’s not like he’s _crazy_ of shape, not by dwarf standards, anyway, but he’s definitely built more for sprinting over short distances than lengthy jogs. His ankles are so sore that they’ve started to go numb—he keeps expecting his legs to give out completely.

But they can’t give up yet. He’s got the right time, he’s sure of it. He’s suffered far too much already to go home empty handed. 

He gasps back, “Well, you know—” Some of his beard flies into his mouth—another reason dwarves aren’t meant for high speeds. He spits it out and splutters, “It’s a beautiful day.” And all that nonsense. It’s pleasantly warm, the sky’s perfectly blue, and Gimli couldn’t give any less of a rat’s ass about it. He’s there for one reason and one reason only: to see the gorgeous elf that jogs through this park every day at noon. 

Gimli finally spots him in the distance, rounding the corner past and headed right for them. He has his long blond hair drawn up in a ponytail, sporting tiny twin braids on either side of his handsome face, and the golden ends kick up in either direction with each of his measured footsteps. His pace is quick and even, his whole body clenching and loosening with every single step. His close-fitted green clothing hugs all of his curves and muscles, highlighting his slender frame and sculpted chest. His clear eyes are brighter than the sky, his lips softer than flower petals. He completely takes Gimli’s breath away.

Gimli has no breath left anyway. He’s a sweaty, disgusting mess that isn’t supposed to be ogling elves, and he usually doesn’t—he knows they’re flighty, silly creatures that don’t appreciate the ground beneath their feet. Even this one isn’t someone he could ever talk to, but in the privacy of his own mind, he drinks in more than his fill. At least when he’s jogging too, his staring is less creepy.

There’s only one path, which they’re both on, and the ridiculously attractive elf is getting ever closer. His pretty mouth lifts into a smile when he’s near enough to see them past the glare of the sun, and he lifts one delicate hand. 

Aragorn slows to a halt. Gimli nearly topples over. The elf stops in front of them but abruptly bends right over, performing a number of fluid stretches as he greets, “Good afternoon, Aragorn. I did not know you ran here.”

“I don’t, usually,” Aragorn answers, “But perhaps it’s best I start. If this is how you keep in shape, that’s all the testimony I need.”

The elf laughs. It’s a beautiful, harmonious sound that Gimli sincerely tries not to be smitten with. “I wouldn’t think you should need it. But if you do enjoy your jog, we may as well do it together sometime.” The elf even winks. Gimli’s heart stops.

Aragorn nods. “We should.”

The elf nods too, and then he’s back to his rhythm, snaking around them and running off into the distance. Gimli turns to watch his chiseled ass flex. Aragorn tries to start up again, but Gimli doesn’t move. Aragorn prods, “Gimli?”

Gimli turns back to rasp, “You know him?”

“Who, Legolas? I do.”

Gimli all but shouts, “Well, why didn’t you introduce me?”

Aragorn blinks. Then he laughs, shakes his head, and promises, “Next time, my friend.”

“Not next time,” Gimli growls. Now he knows the angel’s name, he can’t wait any longer. “We’re catching up now!” He surges forward with a strength he didn’t know he had, and even Aragorn struggles to keep up with him then.


End file.
